


They Are My Death and I Am Theirs

by countessrivers



Category: Thor (2011)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-01
Updated: 2011-12-01
Packaged: 2017-10-26 17:57:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/286249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/countessrivers/pseuds/countessrivers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loki knows he has enemies in Asgard and until Odin dies Thor is his only protection. But even that is fragile.<br/>A 'Tudors' inspired fic from the kink meme, with angry sex and Loki as the toppiest bottom ever.</p>
<p>EDIT: This story has been edited and rewritten somewhat. The plot is the same, if you can consider there to be a plot in such a shameless PWP, but I was unhappy with the story upon rereading, so I changed some grammatical things and fleshed it out a bit more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	They Are My Death and I Am Theirs

**Author's Note:**

> Written for this prompt over at norsekink, which I may or may not have posted myself and cleaned up a bit.  
> http://norsekink.livejournal.com/3415.html?thread=8474711#t8474711  
> The title is taken from one of Anne's lines about Mary.
> 
> EDIT: This story has been edited and rewritten somewhat. The plot is the same, if you can consider there to be a plot in such a shameless PWP, but I was unhappy with the story so I changed some grammatical things and fleshed it out a bit more. I still can't write sex scenes, so sorry in advance if you think it's terrible.

“I know you well enough to know when something is troubling you my son” Frigga had said. “Please Loki, speak to me, as you would do when you were young."

"What was it?", Loki had thought. It was Odin –never Father. Not now, not after everything. Though it would pain him to admit outloud, Loki could not help but still see Frigga as his mother. The mother who had seen where Loki's talents had truely lain and taken him as her apprentice, teaching him her craft until his skills had surpased even those of the Queen of Asgard. But Odin, Odin he could never forgive. That he insisted on pushing Thor into Sif's arms every chance he got filled Loki with a rage that had him digging his nails into his palms to stop himself from reaching over and clawing out the Allfather's remaining eye.

And if Sif looked at Thor like that one more time, if she turned him away with a gentle hand on his arm while leaning in close to speak with him then Loki would do more than just cut off her hair.

It was Fandral, and the rest of Thor's sycophants, who whisper in his brother's ear that Loki cannot be trusted, that the trickster does not know the meaning of honesty and, if he could, would pull them all down and set himself up as king. Even though few knew of Loki's true heritage, any one of them would cheer to see him banished, or even executed.

It was Thor, who, Norns help him, listened to them all. Who would spend nights away in who knows whose bed, who would go hunting with the Warriors Three and then look at Loki with that hint of mistrust, that seed of doubt that Loki could see festering more and more each day. A doubt, which if Loki did nothing to counteract, could eventually see him threatened by even Thor.

But Loki could not tell her any of this, be it due to his pride, or the pointlessness of if. Instead, he took her hands and placed a gentle kiss on each.  “It is nothing Mother. Please, do not think of it”.

Although Frigga knew very well Loki was lying, perhaps even what he was lying about, she simply leaned over and kissed his temple. “I am your mother, I cannot help but worry, but it would lighten my heart to see you out of your room more often, partaking in the feasts, enjoying yourself.”

It was true that Loki, for reasons that certainly did not include fear or embarrassment, had been keeping to his rooms in recent days. What little time he spent amongst the court and the warriors in the past had dwindled to almost nothing. In truth Loki was more than happy to spend his days pouring over tomes of practising his seiðr, well away from the fools that inhabited the rest of the palace. But Frigga was persistent, and if she thought Loki ought to be seen more, the Loki knew he would be better off following her suggestion before she decided to make it an order.

Which is why the following night finds Loki in the dining hall, seated not at his usual seat on the dais, but lower down with the soldiers and lesser nobles. If he was to be forced into unwanted company, then Loki would make certain there was something to gain from it. Knowing he has Thor’s furious gaze on him, Loki proceedes to charm, and tease, all those around him. When he reaches for his cup he places his hand on the thigh of the handsome lord next to him, squeezing gently as he drinks, making sure to tilt back his head far enough to expose the long, pale line of his throat. His amusement is hidden in his cup as he watches from the corner of his eye as Thor and the nobleman, Kolr, if memory serves, both turn a deep shade of red. Loki may not have been the golden, first born heir, but there were many who would still yearn for a night with him.

Loki’s amusement lasts throughout the night, as nothing was quite as entertaining as riling Thor up. It wasn’t until late into the evening, when Thor has finally had enough and pulled Loki roughly to his feet, claiming he has partaken to far too much drink, and all but drags him to his rooms, that Loki’s anger rears its head again.

Thor crowds Loki against the door the moment it is shut, and wastes no time in latching onto his brother’s neck, shifting a strong thigh between his legs and pressing against the hardness he finds there. So focused on marking that pale column with small bites and kisses is Thor that he doesn’t notice that Loki has reached up and threaded his hands through his fair hair until he uses it roughly yank Thor off. His shock melts into a delight as Loki moves them away from the wall, and he grins up at Loki as he is pushed backwards onto the bed, watching with obvious appreciation as Loki removes his shirt. It gives Loki some satisfaction to hear the tearing of fabric as he then rips Thor’s shirt open, tossing it across the room with little care to where it lands, but it does nothing to quell the anger burning through Loki’s veins, so strong it almost chokes him.

Thor reaches up, and grabbing a hold of the back of Loki’s head, pulls him down into a kiss that is all tongue and teeth and anger and lust. Loki bites down sharply, hard enough to draw blood and Thor’s resulting moan as he licks the blood away is enough to make Loki, if it were possible, even harder.

Pulling away, with the taste of Thor’s blood still on his tongue, Loki slaps him hard across the face.  Thor moans again, and the sound goes straight to Loki’s cock, because who would have guessed the mighty and glorious Thor, pride of the Nine Realms, enjoyed being handled so rough.

“If Asgard could see you now,” Loki laughs as he runs his hands across Thor’s chest with just the slightest hint of nail. “What would Lady Sif think brother? What would the Allfather-”

Loki is cut off as Thor takes hold of his shoulders and rolls them over, coming to a stop with Loki beneath him. Thor then leans over and presses kisses along Loki’s collarbone and down his chest, pausing only to graze his teeth across his nipples. Although it is muffled by the hand he has thrown over his mouth, Loki’s consequential hiss is still audible to Thor, who laughs to himself and gives the left nipple one last bite before moving further down.

While he drags his tongues across the dip between Loki’s hipbones, Thor unlaces his brother’s breeches, and Loki lifts his hips to help remove them. Loki makes use of the moments it takes for Thor to divest himself of his own pants to open himself up with magic. He is in no mood to take this slow, and this way Thor, when he moves back to the bed, is able to push right in.

Thor pauses for a moment, but after a breath he hooks one of Loki’s legs over his arm, braces himself with the other, and starts at a punishing pace. Loki grips the sheets hard enough to tear them, and Thor leans down to capture his lips in another kiss, this one no less vicious than the last.

As Thor’s harsh strokes continue, his mouth moves up along Loki’s jaw, occasionally biting hard enough to bruise. Loki winds his hands through Thor’s hair, and pulls as hard as can. Thor only laughs, and buries his head in the juncture between Loki’s neck and shoulder, determined to leave as many marks as possible on his brother’s pale skin.

In retaliation, Loki rakes his nails down Thor’s back, revelling in the feel of blood on his fingers and the agonized scream Thor lets loose. Glaring up at his brother, he then reaches up and closes his hand around Thor’s throat, squeezing just hard enough and long enough to daze so that Loki can swiftly roll them over and sink back down onto his cock.

While it is certainly still there, Loki’s anger slowly gives way to satisfaction. Contentment has never suited Loki, but here, in his rooms, with Thor below him and his cock hitting that wonderful spot inside him over and over, Loki might just call himself that. Thor can lay with whomever he likes for a night. He may listen to what Odin and the warriors whisper to him and he may play with his mortal scientist and those lost creatures who think themselves heroes, but in the end, it would always be Loki he came back to, and Loki he would chose time and time again. More importantly, it was Loki whom Thor allowed to see him like this; pinned down and thoroughly debauched, straining upwards to push further into his brother’s willing body.

With one hand still around Thor’s throat and the other on top of his where it grips his hips, Loki pushes himself up and down, concentrating on the feel of his brother’s cock inside him and on pulling more of those beautiful noises from his mouth.

As Thor’s hips push up, in either an attempt to take control or simply to pull them closer, Loki cannot help but laugh. “This is it,” he thinks. “Thor is mine. Not the Warrior’s Three’s, not Sif’s, not that human woman’s, not Odin’s, not even Asgard’s. Mine.”

He must have said that last part out loud, because Thor answers with a raw and broken “Yes brother, always. Always yours Loki”.

It is this confession, his name on Thor’s lips, that tips Loki over the edge, and as he clenches and bucks his way through his orgasm, digging his fingers into the broad chest below him hard enough to draw more blood, Thor follows close behind.

Loki comes down from his high slumped over Thor. Slowly, he pulls himself off, collapsing next to Thor while they try to catch their breaths. Loki is pleasantly sore, can feel Thor's seed dripping from his stretched hole, and knows he will be feeling this ache for days. The knowledge that Thor will be walking around with the cuts and scratches he has inflicted also brings a smile to his face. Perhaps, he even thinks, they have conceived a child, a child to be his father’s heir, one that Thor would never allow to be taken away and one that would bind the two of them together forever. Loki finds himself concentrating, as if he could will such a child into being, because until Thor takes the throne, he is still woefully vulnerable to his enemies.

“I’ll never be safe so long as they’re here,” Loki mutters to himself.

Thor wraps an arm around Loki and pulls him to lay across his chest, running a hand affectionately along his brother’s side. If he heard Loki’s words, he says nothing.


End file.
